


One Blow

by Mews1945



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-29
Updated: 2006-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mews1945/pseuds/Mews1945
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An argument between Aragorn and Frodo escalates when Frodo intervenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Blow

Frodo sat up, shaking all over, and was glad he had moved his blanket a bit away from the other hobbits, who still slept on. Merry and Pippin were folded together in one lumpy bundle and Sam lay on his side, his hand outstretched as though searching for Frodo even in his sleep.

Aragorn and Boromir had been talking quietly by the softly shining water of the Anduin, the moonlight gilding Boromir's golden mane and stiking cool gleams from Aragorn's dark hair. Their voices, though soft, had held a tension that had kept Frodo from closing his eyes as he listened and wondered if they might actually come to blows. It frightened him to think of it, such big Men they were, so powerful, Boromir possessed of a heavy grace, like the great war horse he rode and Aragorn lean and agile as a grey wolf.

It could not be good for the Fellowship that they should be at odds, struggling for control of the destiny of the whole company. It was the Ring, he knew, working its insidious will, singing its silent, coaxing song of temptation and Evil

The raised voices of the two Men brought Frodo to full alarm, and he climbed to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the ground as he hurried toward them, hardly knowing what he meant to do. He had not the power to stop them if they should begin to fight in earnest, and it seemed by the flashing of their eyes and the way their hands curled into great, knotty fists that they must soon fly at each other and then blows would fall and there would be no saving the Fellowship.

Boromir seized Aragorn's shoulder as the Ranger turned from him, and Aragorn swung back, flinging off the restraining hand with a snarl. Surely he would strike now, and Frodo cried out as he ran between them.

"No! No!"

It was Boromir who struck out, perhaps not realizing what he was doing in that one moment of rage and uncontrolled reaction. Perhaps he mistook Frodo's intervention as an attack. Whatever the reason, he did strike, and his open hand hit Frodo a hard blow across his cheek.

Frodo was driven from his feet, thrown violently aside by the force of the blow, and fell senseless to the soft, cool grass.

He knew not how long he lay unconscious, but when he awoke, he was lying on a blanket, with other blankets laid over him to keep him warm. His cousins and Sam were gathered closely about him, their voices murmuring, soft and worried. Before them all stood Gimli, ax held ready as though for battle, and by his side was Legolas. They faced the two Men, both of whom were white faced and trembling.

"Let me see to him," Aragorn said, and his voice trembled too, and there was no anger in him now, and no pride, only concern for Frodo. Boromir also pleaded to be allowed to see Frodo, to assure himself that Frodo had not been badly hurt by his ill-considered blow.

"Shall we allow you to do the young hobbit more harm?" Gimli demanded gruffly. "Let the two of you at him and we know not what mischief you may do him."

"It was not meant," Boromir said. "Can you think I would truly wish to harm someone so much smaller than myself? I am a Man of honor."

"You may have meant no harm," Legolas said, his voice like the whisper of the night wind. "But harm was done to the Ringbearer. How can we trust you now to do him no more hurt?"

"It was not meant, I tell you!" Boromir's voice again began to rise. Aragorn gave him a stern look and received a glare in return.

Elf and dwarf drew nearer each other. Sam and the cousins placed themselves more closely around Frodo as though determined to prevent any from approaching him, whether friend or foe.

Frodo sat up, his head spinning. Dizzily, he reached out and found Merry's arm, and Merry started, then said, "Lie back, Frodo, lie back. You are hurt."

With the tips of his fingers, Frodo felt his swollen cheek. Inside his mouth, his teeth had cut the flesh and there was the taste of blood. His neck hurt, and his shoulder was aching where he must have struck it when he fell. But he was able to push himself to his feet, and Merry, after another protest, helped him, whilst Sam helped from the other side and Pippin stood with them.

"Gimli, my friend," Frodo said. "Legolas, I am not badly hurt."

The two turned to look at him, but neither moved from his place. "We must protect you, Frodo," Legolas said. "From anyone who might do you harm." And his silver blue eyes glittered as he turned them on the Men.

"And you have," Frodo answered. "But we are a Fellowship, and we cannot let this break us apart. Boromir struck out at what he thought was an enemy. I placed myself in peril, and the blow was my fault as well as his."

The soldier of Gondor stared at him, and in his proud face Frodo saw shame and sorrow. Aragorn also seemed to be taken by dismay at his own conduct. Boromir bowed his head.

"I am sorry, Frodo. I erred. I ask your forgiveness."

"You have it," Frodo replied. He looked at Aragorn. "Will you see to this cut inside my cheek? I do not think it is serious, but it does sting a bit."

For a moment the circle of his protectors remained unmoving. He squeezed Merry's arm. "Please," he said softly, and to Legolas and Gimli, "My friends, thank you, but I am safe with Aragorn and Boromir now. The trouble is ended."

But, as they all relaxed then, and Aragorn came to tend to him, and Boromir once more begged his pardon, Frodo knew that the Fellowship's troubles were far from being ended.

End


End file.
